Up with the birds, sipping coffee alone in the city. The night shadows are beginning to lift; the outlines of the trees of Central Park are reclaiming their daylight shapes. Fortunately, no imaginary intruders scaled the glass atrium roof outside my bedroom window overnight. My brother’s bedroom window actually. I’m in Vancouver for a few days, watering plants, visiting galleries and bookstores and walking in the park. No time to waste sleeping with such reverie to indulge in.
The valley is beautiful, but the city thrums with something. That same something also thrums in other cities I’ve visited; Vienna, Paris, Berlin, Florence, Marseilles. Is it the pulse of universities, libraries, opera houses, theaters and museums reverberating silently through the air? Or maybe it’s the melding of culture that cities attract; the exotic foods, colours, music? I’m talking to my son who’s holidaying in Vietnam as I write. I asked how he was liking Vietnam, he replied, ‘Great country, “F’ing great country. Maybe my favourite one yet.” I haven’t been to Asia but his enthusiasm is contagious. There’s something so enlarging and invigorating in stepping out of our ordinary lives every now and then. I used to think travel was a luxury, now I consider it an imperative. Even a day trip to somewhere new can help us see and ‘think different’. (Thank you Apple.)
This is my view this morning. I’m watering (and eating) mini heirloom tomatoes for breakfast. They’re pairing nicely with the remains of last night’s Lebanese shawarma and dalmades. (My gosh, have you ever had a dalmades? Explosive.) I’m going to walk over to the library shortly and pick up another coffee and some sort of decadent pastry on the way. Maybe a honey soaked baklava from the Ottoman Empire to continue the Middle Eastern theme.
I think it’s going to be a good day.